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I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to stay away from her, but I can’t keep lying to her face about who I am, especially since I can’t stop thinking about her in all of the ways that I shouldn’t. I can’t keep this from my friend either.
I force myself to keep my distance for a few days, only catching glimpses of her car when I drive past her house or the library. I still attended the support group on Thursday, but I waited until just before it started to go in through the side entrance and made sure the parking lot was clear before I left. It’s pathetic.
I’m pathetic.
Avoiding her isn’t fair and I feel like an ass, but I’m afraid if I’m around her I’ll blurt out the truth. I’ll confess that I’ve been lying about my name and why I’m in New Hope.
When Curtis calls me Friday night to tell me the shipment we’ve been waiting on is in, I welcome the distraction and dive back into the job.
We end up in a run-down warehouse in the middle of the night unloading boxes from giant wooden crates with eight other guys. The crates are loaded in the back of unmarked semi trucks, looking blatantly suspicious.
This is the type of illegal activity I’ve been searching for. This is what I need to distract me from Thea once and for all. My life is the job. That’s it.
I keep my head down and keep a low profile. By the time we’ve unloaded everything into the warehouse, dawn’s approaching and we’re all whipped. If this was above board, you’d think someone would have had a fucking forklift to use.
“Jameson should be here soon, he’ll pay us,” Curtis tells me as he hops onto an old rusted table that I’m standing near. It creaks underneath his weight as he sits. Hopefully, the tetanus shot he got in basic training is doing its job.
“Who is Jameson?” I ask as casually as possible.
“He’s the boss. He’s cool man. He’s like us.” Like us? What does that mean?
“He’s ex-military?” I assume.
“Yeah, and you should see it. He got blown up in Afghanistan like 20 years ago. He’s got an eye patch and everything. Kind of bad ass.” He laughs to himself.
“How do you know him?” I push it further, trying to get some information that I can run with, but hoping Curtis doesn’t think I’m being too nosy.
“Derrick and Mitch are his cousins.”
Ah, being family is a good way to get someone a part of your agenda. This could be it. This could be the link to the extremist group, I just need my in.
“It’s been fun hangin’ out with you guys,” I lie, effortlessly. “I’m thinking about staying in town longer.”
Curtis thinks I’m just a drifter. I hope the prospect of me staying will get him to open up more, and bring me into the loop.
“Good. We could use more guys around here.” Bingo.
“What else do you do, besides move boxes?”
“Ehh. Just some odd jobs here and there, but the real fun is hanging out at Jameson’s farm. The first time I got invited out there, I swear the party was going all night. It was great, man.”
I don’t mention that partying all night is the least fun thing I can imagine. Those days are long behind me. “Sounds like it. Let me know next time and I’ll tag along.”
“Yeah. That’d be cool, but you gotta meet Jameson first. He has to kind of approve of you before you can hang.” He shrugs, not explaining further.
“I see.” I feign indifference, hoping like hell I can figure out what’s going down at the “farm.”
“Look, here he comes.”
I look up as a middle-aged guy limps through the warehouse. Curtis wasn’t lying about the eye patch, but it’s cheap and black like a pirate costume. Despite his handicaps, there’s an air of authority around him.
“Good job gettin’ everything unloaded, boys. I added an extra twenty for getting the job done in one night. The next one is due sometime next week. I’ll keep ya posted.” Everyone had gathered in a sloppy semi-circle when he walked in, nodding their heads as he spoke.
As each person moves down the line to receive their pay, a couple of them grab Jameson’s hands to shake them, looking at him with awe.
Curtis jumps in front of me so he reaches Jameson first. “Let me introduce you. Just be cool.” Alright, kid. I’ll be cool. Whatever that fucking means.
“Jameson, thanks for letting me in on the job. I appreciate it.” Curtis stutters nervously as he speaks. “Um, this is my good buddy, Jay. He’s new in town and wanted to work, so I brought him out here. He’s cool. He’s one of us.” Again with that phrase… One of us.
